


The Orb of Linear Time

by KJGooding



Series: Post-Canon Trill Revival [9]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bajoran Culture, Fictional Religion & Theology, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Gen, Multi, Post-Canon, Rebirth, Resurrection, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22897321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJGooding/pseuds/KJGooding
Summary: Julian is accustomed to doing his work for an audience - his parents, his architects, his professors, his partners...When he conducts his daughter's Joining procedure, he feels as though the entire population of the Trill homeworld is looking over his shoulder.  And then, above them, he has the support and attention of two old friends...There is a disturbance at Jadzia's grave-site, leading - in a peculiar way - to Dax and Ezri falling ill.  Rali struggles to navigate speech and silence in alternating increments, without two of her parents feeling well enough to help her.
Relationships: Ezri Dax/Lenara Kahn, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak, Julian Bashir/Ezri Dax, Kira Nerys/Ro Laren
Series: Post-Canon Trill Revival [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1251704
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. 2403

2403

Julian had become accustomed to being a source of study, ever since his youth. Almost constantly, he felt the compulsion of someone standing over his shoulder, waiting to see the work he was doing. When he was young, it was his father and a series of unethical doctors, expectantly looking at his drawings to see what progress he had made. If the result was one they approved of, Julian would be given some kind of pleasant recognition, and this pattern burned itself into his brain long after the resequencing devices were removed. Throughout his professional pursuits, whether it was tennis practice or his medical residency, he continued to thrive on the praise of others, urging him to try increasingly impressive new methods. Eventually, he reached the point where he had finished his project before anyone was even there to see it, and he realized he needed to slow himself down, blur his achievements, and dull his enthusiasm. 

After distancing himself from the Federation, their splinter organization - Section 31 - continued to keep an eye on him, with all the fastidious spite of a spurned ex-lover. They took one of his projects without asking, and certainly without giving him any praise in return. 

Ezri had seen one of their victims as a patient. Her patients were often  _ someone’s _ victim, but this particular individual was more difficult for her to place. Sezena Nati was significantly above Joining age; Ezri recognized him as a dropout of the Initiate program, and Rali did  _ not  _ recognize the name he gave as any symbiont she had ever studied. She had studied them all. 

Upon further inspection, they found the  _ Nati  _ symbiont to be unnatural - a mechanical device based on Julian’s design, but with several grossly overlooked flaws. It connected its user unwillingly with others using similar devices, creating a network of individuals connected via intrusive thoughts and paranoia. Ezri alerted Julian, who in turn shared the issue with Elim, and they quickly came to the agreement that Section 31 was behind the  _ Nati _ ’s development. There were more than a dozen Trill implanted with one, promised the opportunity to Join - which the Federation could now tout as a natural right - in exchange for covert information gathering errands. When Julian and Ezri brought this to the Federation’s attention, furious at their oversight, they received a decidedly unhelpful counterpoint: synthetic lifeforms of any kind were illegal. Therefore, they would confiscate the existing  _ Nati  _ symbionts and destroy them.

Julian argued that these were medical devices, and they had been modified and installed without the advice of a medical professional. Removing them would end the lives of their hosts, as it was a well-known fact that once stimulated, a Trill humanoid’s symbiotic nerve needed to feed on constant input. Ezri and Julian won the case, and the Federation elected to instead remove the whole of Section 31. Julian clearly recalled Elim patting his arm and saying they had abused their last operative. 

“I know all too well,” Elim had said, frowning. “Believe me, I think the Federation needs  _ someone  _ to do its dirty work, but not at the price of torturing its own agents. That is a lesson I have learned through experience.”

Julian appreciated the gesture, and set to repairing what physical damage he could to the  _ Nati  _ Trill, while Ezri - as ever - complemented his expertise with her own, focusing on the emotional ramifications. 

Following this, greater emphasis was placed on natural Joinings and allowing symbionts time to reproduce, so more prospective Joining partners could come into circulation. Ezri and Rali took care of the rotating population of symbionts as they aged, and Julian visited occasionally to check on all of them. The number of symbionts grew steadily, and former  _ Nati _ victims were added to the waitlist for natural Joinings to newly born symbionts, as this was deemed the best way to reverse the negative effects of their procedure while still stimulating their symbiotic needs. Julian oversaw all of their transitions to the best of his ability. 

Each time Julian conducted a procedure - he was the most respected physician who did them, despite Trill surgeons being trained in his method over the years - he knew he was being watched by a large audience. Whether physically present in the theater or waiting outside to receive news of each successful Joining, he knew the implications were vast and impressive each time he did his job. 

But, since his daughter was born - nearly twenty-six years ago, now - Julian was always cautious not to study her, not to make her a spectacle. There were nights he held her, as a shivering infant, and reflected deeply over whether he should give her something to reduce a fever, or if this was a mere side effect of her hybrid body adjusting to the station’s temperate climate. But as the years passed, he realized he was not duplicating the actions of his own father; he was giving love and care where it was needed, and he was learning to communicate with his daughter in her own unconventional ways. He had to realize, too, through his work with Ezri and the rebuilt Symbiosis Commission, that their daughter was the first of a new race, and the first of a new generation who expressed concern and compassion for Trill symbionts like they had not received before. He made private notes about his daughter’s progress, and he watched her grow at his loving home as well as Ezri’s, where her previously unmet communication needs were finally satisfied and accommodated by the liberated symbionts. She performed great services as a caretaker in the cave pools, and she expanded her knowledge to include nearly every symbiont who had ever lived. Her already blurry definition of ‘family’ increased to even wider measures as she grew up and forged connections on her own terms. 

And so, without Julian intending it, he felt as if everyone on the planet was watching him with bated breath. Everyone knew Rali, and he was conducting her much-anticipated Joining procedure to an untested symbiont.

Despite her success as an initiate - navigating a curriculum Ezri personally ensured was accessible and fair - she took an extra two years to complete the program. Rali intentionally spaced out some of the courses so she could continue her work as a caretaker, and she wanted to take every available opportunity to sit in on Guidance sessions with her mother and the Miele symbiont, the frontrunner among Rali’s Joining prospects. 

Miele itself - the sole progeny of Dax and Kahn - watched the procedure up close, under moderate sedation. While Rali would be fully unconscious for the duration of the surgery, Miele accepted the responsibility of remaining active, of helping Rali adjust gradually to her new identity. It was a method Julian had developed and perfected over the previous two decades, with each Joining and Disjoining he was asked to conduct. Miele steadied itself with thoughts of all Julian’s practice, the specialized clinic he sometimes resided at on the Trill homeworld, the impeccable control of his hands as he reached past Miele in its basin and adjusted the oxygen device pressed against Rali’s nostrils. 

By now, there were very few medical scenarios Julian had not seen and personally provided aid to. Joining procedures became his area of expertise, and a new credential was added to the end of his name - ‘SSS’ in Standard, for ‘Symbiotic Surgical Specialist.’ While he still worked with the Bajoran Militia and maintained a practice on Cardassia, he was renowned on Trill for his personal relationships and unique concern for the symbionts. During the past twenty years, he developed a number of instruments and techniques to make these transitions as smooth as possible. One particular model of autosuture - widely known as the  _ Bashir Nerve Graft,  _ something Miles lovingly teased him about when the patent came up for transfer through Starfleet channels - was made to bind the symbiotic nerves together gradually, allowing a clearer memory of the procedure to the Host and Symbiont, as well as minimizing the recovery time associated with any drastic cuts and closures. In the past, it was almost impossible for a host to identify the moment they became  _ someone else _ \- a fact Ezri found troubling after her own procedure. With her counsel always taken to heart, Julian made every effort to maximize the time host and symbiont spent ‘getting to know each other, on a physical level,’ as he called it. 

Ezri also spent this time trailblazing on behalf of the Council for Mutual Symbiosis. She acted as the primary Guidance Counselor, and fielded prospective hosts and symbionts as her patients, helping them prepare to make these life-altering decisions. There were scripted conversations and open questions, and a selection of virtual simulations to allow both parties to practice before making their final choice. The number of unsuccessful Joinings dwindled almost to zero in the preceding years - making Ezri realize with some shock and dismay just how many Joined partners were not well suited to one another, and were merely gifted to one another like spouses pre-arranged by the old Symbiosis Commission, as if there were two factions at war. In a way, Ezri thought this might have been true; the Commission could conveniently rein in any deviant symbionts while appeasing the almost insatiable aspiration of all young humanoids to become Joined. Ezri was glad they did not look at it that way anymore, and she felt perfectly at ease as she watched Rali’s progress. 

She and Lenara were seated with their faces almost pressed to the glass of the operating suite, with their breath clouding the otherwise transparent partition. Julian turned over his shoulder and warned them teasingly about blowing kisses, telling them to save all the affection they had for when Rali awoke again. 

“There is something handsome about him, isn’t there?” Ezri observed, leaning her head on Lenara’s shoulder. 

Julian’s hair had begun graying, especially at his temples and peppering throughout his beard, as well. His demeanor was calm and professional, well-rehearsed, and Ezri could easily see the impression of his smile even when he pulled a mask up to cover his mouth, even when his back was turned. Affection and devotion were evident in each tiny movement of his fingers, and Ezri could not help but sigh with fondness. 

Lenara eyed her quizzically. 

“If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d think that was your symbiont doing the talking.”

Ezri laughed, tired and breathless, and turned her attention forward again. She began to wave her hand dismissively, gesturing up at Dax in its personal tank, but she felt someone tapping her shoulder. 

It was Elim, who was seated in the row behind her, with Kelas leaning into his embrace much like Ezri was doing to Lenara. 

“I’d like to express my agreement, before the matter is put to rest,” Elim said, taking a moment to admire Julian - hard at work - for himself. “I’ve never enjoyed surgery as an art form, until now.”

“Well, we’re glad you could make it,” Lenara said quietly. 

“Oh, we aren’t here  _ just  _ for pleasure,” Elim began. 

Kelas grinned as they cut him off. 

“Julian is taking us to see the Hoobishan Baths,” they explained, acting as a real-time translator when Elim intentionally made himself vague. It was a step above lying, though, that was certain.

“But for business, as well,” Elim went on, unfazed. “We thought Rali might enjoy a tour of the Medicinal Saunas during her recuperation, and a visit to the Archaeological Institute in Paldar Sector. I’ve been told they have an  _ exemplary  _ collection of fossilized invertebrates. You don’t believe her interests will change drastically when she awakens again, do you, Counselor?”

“No,” Ezri said, with great pride. “Not at all. She’s been waiting for this her whole life, and she and Miele are a very good match.”

“You’re all very lucky I can work with distractions,” Julian mumbled, through his mask and through the glass. “I haven’t heard this much talking during a procedure since I hosted that group of First Year Preceptees, and that was eight years ago on Bajor, when we--”

“Sorry!” Ezri said, with an underlying laugh there to lighten her tone. “We’ll leave you alone, Doctor.”

“But it  _ is  _ exciting,” Julian replied. “I  _ quite  _ agree.”

He returned his attention to the task at hand, both meticulous and loving in each small movement. It was still a procedure which demanded multiple hours of his attention, but he was much too excited to feel fatigued. Truthfully, he was happy to have an audience. He loved facilitating students, training Trill in safe ways to reach their full potential - but more than that, he loved being surrounded by his chosen family, all the individuals who cared about him most. 

Above him, Dax’s tank was perched on a shelf. Its vision was much too limited for it to watch the finer details of the procedure, but it felt a similar comfort with Julian, Rali, and Miele all in its immediate vicinity. It had not pursued Joining again in the previous twenty years, out of respect for Ezri’s privacy and protective concern for its children as they matured together. It encouraged Kahn to rejoin with Lenara, where both of them felt most comfortable, while it remained active locally and in Klingon communities. Starfleet granted Dax its own rank of Commander, separate from Ezri and any of its previous hosts, for its commitment to their ideals and its work as an ambassador of individual rights. 

While Julian worked on connecting Rali’s symbiotic nerve system up with Miele’s, Dax could not help but feel proud, and a bit nervous. Miele was partially conscious, and Dax could sense tiny variations in its thought patterns, but it tried to send down reassurance, the same as it would do for itself or a host in danger. All alone in its tank, it produced specialized acids and proteins, and consoled itself with memories of more peaceful times. 

Then, even further above Dax, two others looked down on Julian while he worked. He continued without knowledge of their presence, feeling calm, prepared, professional, and--

“Doesn’t he look  _ handsome _ , Benjamin?”

“I suppose,” Benjamin said, into a playful sigh. “I thought you would be more interested in watching the procedure, but I guess you haven’t changed much at all, have you, Old Man?”

“Those surgeon’s hands, and with forty years of practice!” Jadzia mimicked the sigh, and the same fondness. “I could watch him work  _ all day _ .”

“Careful. Jokes about time don’t always go over well, here,” Benjamin advised, sounding just like the Starfleet Captain Jadzia used to know. 

“Well… then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here as  _ your  _ guest.”

“Just…  _ watch _ ,” Benjamin said, gesturing toward the Trill homeworld, magnifying their view of Julian and his operating table, in particular. 

“Oh, I am.”

Julian moved the specialized nerve grafting tool ino place, softening Rali’s symbiotic nerve and preparing it to receive input from Miele’s. The young symbiont had been sedated while still in its tank, but it was conscious, and gave its enthusiastic permission for Julian to initiate the connection. Then, as soon as he was able, he would wake Rali and allow her to feel the gradual changes, too. There were still several hours of careful irrigation and closure to do; Julian could only speed the invasive procedure so much, even over his years of perfecting it. 

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else,” Jadzia said, as she observed Julian at work. “Isn’t that  _ incredible _ ? I almost wish I could remember  _ my  _ Joining...”

“Maybe I’ll show you, sometime,” Benjamin said, “but I don’t think you’ll find that nearly as interesting as watching Doctor Bashir...”

“Probably not.”

Jadzia kept her attention directed forward, and downward, and in a hundred different directions at once. Time and space existed in relativity - in the Prophetic afterlife - and she felt both well acclimated and like she was stumbling around in the same confusion Ezri Dax felt years ago. 

“It  _ is  _ incredible,” Benjamin conceded, after a brief silence. “To watch a father make that sacrifice for his child…”

He regarded himself in the same breath as Julian, and the Prophets as they watched over all of their children, cast throughout the quadrants. It all occurred at once to him, but it took his guest a moment to catch up. 

“What’s the sacrifice?” she asked.

“Being willing to say goodbye to the child he raised, so they can become who  _ they  _ want to become.”

“Hmm,” said Jadzia, as she watched the exact scenario unfold. “I can’t remember mine, that well… I know Ezri couldn’t, either, and it scared her. But  _ Rali… _ this is beautiful, Benjamin. Thank you for letting me see it happen.”

Benjamin existed in a constantly-shifting corporeal state - as many of the Prophets did when they chose to interact with other species - but he calmed his motions long enough to sit down beside Jadzia. In contrast, Jadzia felt like a block of marble. Her limbs did not move as she wanted them to, and she found it difficult to even turn her head. Fortunately, Benjamin could direct the action all around her, so she could see precisely what she wanted to, even if she could not express it for herself. She remained well spoken, but Benjamin could often anticipate her next thought before she voiced it. 

“My pleasure,” Benjamin said. “It… rings deeply, for me. Do you feel it?”

Jadzia stayed quiet as she considered the question, but by the time she finally turned her stone-heavy chin to meet his eyes, his form had changed. She was still aware of his presence, but she could not see the physical outline of the Starfleet Captain she knew. 

“I -  _ Jadzia  _ \- was never a parent,” she managed to say, standing firm as she faced the unknown.

In that moment, Benjamin existed as a flickering beam of light and a booming wall of sound.

“I need to go,” his voice said. “It is time I pay my own children a visit…”

The light shrank away until it was as tiny as the tapered wick of a candle, and Jadzia strained to lean over it, watching it morph through orange and green to purple and finally black. The light faded away completely, leaving Jadzia with only the comfort of her own blueish glow in the darkness. She struggled to lift her arm, using it to light the space immediately in front of her eyes, but there was nothing to be seen except the faint reflections of the flaring spots on her face. 

“Benjamin?” she laughed to herself, and brought her arm down to her side. “Great, thanks. How ‘bout a ride home? Bring me to a party and leave me, what a gentleman, that’s  _ so  _ unlike you--”

Unwilling to be assigned to this new, undesirable role, Benjamin’s essence listened and understood, and pulled a few cosmic strings to oblige her.

***

Kira made one of several annual pilgrimages to the station, and more specifically, to the temple. The whole place was derelict, home to only a handful of religious students, who maintained it to intentionally outdated standards; it was a place to go to find oneself, to indulge in the simpler pleasures of years past. 

From Julian, one of her most trusted and long-serving advisors, Kira had of course received word of Rali’s surgery. She was visiting the station in order to pray; she preferred the ancient style of lamps and incense to the more modern shift toward holographic rosaries and guided meditation. Some people prayed in company, but Kira preferred to undertake the act alone, with only the subject she was praying for on her mind. She liked to know that she, herself, was making some kind of difference, no matter how small. 

But, of course, she was never completely alone. As a respected Vedek, Kira traveled with a party of guards and assistants. Ro Laren still served as her primary protector, and sat outside the temple to wait for Kira to emerge again. She had grown more patient over the years, willing to wait rather than reach in and take what she did not understand. She had been raised in a time of scarcity and horror, where it was better to take every opportunity and resource that crossed her path, but she had outgrown the tragic compulsion. Now she could wait, and she could listen to the soft echoes of Kira’s chanting, as she laid out her cushions and arranged her incense inside the small temple. 

Outside, Ro followed similar procedures, laying out Kira’s personal effects and arranging her schedule for the duration of the visit. They made these trips several times per year - often in tune to the changing of the seasons - so Kira could observe the traditional festivals hosted on the station. For many, the highlight of the journey was stopping to see site of the wormhole, and Kira and Ro were no exception. 

While she waited for Kira to finish, she craned her neck to find the fabled viewport, on the second level, with the clearest view of both the promenade and the holy sector of space. For a fleeting moment, as she peeked between the shoulders of passing monks, she swore she saw a flash of light. Something blue and shimmery - perhaps a falling star shifting in to focus. But in the interest of being thorough and ensuring the area was secure, she dug through Kira’s kit for a navigational scanner, to see if any anomalies had been reported…

Inside the temple, Kira’s eyes were drawn to one of the many dimmed lamps, arranged in a semicircle, hanging like gem-studded tiaras over the vases of incense. She took the candle she was using and lit her path toward one lamp in particular, one calling out to her even though it was still and silent. Then, the premonition became fully realized; as the gentle light from Kira’s candle lapped at the metal rim of the lamp, it began to glow from within. 

Kira recognized it as Jadzia’s  _ duranja _ , the memorial lamp decorated in her honor, left hanging in the approximate place her soul had departed. Her body had succumbed in the Infirmary, but Trill were fascinating in their limitless possession of identities; Kira could not say for certain where  _ all  _ of these deaths occurred. But the scene of the incident was marked forever with the lamp, a permanent sign of respect much like a headstone. 

So, when it began glowing blue, as if talking back to the flame from Kira’s candlestick, she felt conflicted. She thought about extinguishing the flame between her fingers, pulling her cushion directly in front of Jadzia’s lamp, and praying to honor her memory, as if the spirit inside needed some attention to sate it. Her years of Vedek’s studies encouraged only this: respect and silence, careful movements and traditional gestures. But, since this new discovery rested on Kira’s shoulders - and revolved around Jadzia’s memory - Kira did not think archaic rules would be appropriate. If anyone on the station was known for subverting authority, it was the two of them in their prime. 

Kira reached out for the  _ duranja’s  _ handle - carved from soft driftwood - snatched it up, and held it close to her chest. 

***

Despite the relatively large audience in attendance for Rali’s procedure, Julian and Ezri had agreed on a quiet, reflective celebration afterward. 

Ezri sat outside, watching as the final closures were made, and she reached down to the gap between her seat and Lenara’s, so she could touch Lenara’s hand. Although the touch was fleeting and her hand was cold, the feeling behind it brought Lenara nothing but satisfaction and warmth. 

“It’ll be alright,” Lenara assured. “Take as much time as you need to… I think it’ll do her a world of good, to wake up beside  _ just  _ her parents.”

Ezri took a look at Lenara, then turned to see Elim and Kelas sitting in the row behind her, then the group of caregivers in a makeshift row of seats even further behind. 

“Come on,” Ezri said, laughing slightly to soothe herself, “we’re  _ all  _ her parents, some way or another.”

Softly, Lenara brought Ezri’s hand upward, so she could feel the knitted fabric of her tunic, the cool bronze of the necklace she wore, and the gentle tremor of Kahn underneath it all. 

“Kahn and I will visit when she’s ready,” Lenara promised. “And I  _ know  _ the Cardassian side of the family has something exciting planned, as well.”

“Oh, yes,” Elim said, slyly leaning in behind Lenara’s shoulder. “But only after she has had a chance to rest. The shuttle trip to Cardassia Prime can be arduous, even if one has a fascinating tour to look forward to.”

“It’s a great gift, Garak,” Ezri said. “I  _ know  _ she’ll love it.”

“Well, I should hope so. Perhaps, in this exciting new chapter of her life, she will no longer take interest in soaking-tubs or ground-worms.”

Ezri faced the same realization, and spoke to quell it. 

“She won’t change that much.”

“My  _ dear _ ,” Elim went on, to make amends, “I used to find consistency quite comfortable, myself. But stagnation has lost its charm; I  _ far  _ prefer to hunt out new ideas and experiences for my own enjoyment, not purely to debate.”

“I thought Cardassians  _ enjoyed  _ debates,” Ezri observed.

“Not with you, Captain,” Elim said. “You and I are on the same side, in the end.”

“Oh, I  _ see _ ,” Ezri teased, “so… then you and  _ Julian  _ must be--”

Elim was prepared to disagree again, to continue spiraling into the game he created, but then the very man in question tapped the window of the operating suite. He had removed his glove and shed his smock, hanging it on a hook near the glass, which he then patted softly with the back of his hand to get the group’s attention. 

_ “She’s waking up,”  _ Julian mouthed, but no sound was made.

Ezri gasped, then let the air back out again into a stifled laugh. This was it! After decades of preparation, of winding up all the necessary strings, the moment itself arrived - precious and fragile but unraveling nonetheless, just like it was supposed to.

She nodded to let Julian know she had seen him, and she carefully set Lenara’s hand down in her lap before departing. There was nothing to take inside the room; Rali had always enjoyed quiet interactions, and Ezri hoped to convey some sense of calm even if she was not feeling that way herself. 

The Trill medical assistants were dismissed from the room, holding the heavy door open for Ezri to enter. Julian pulled two foldaway chairs down from a compartment in the wall, and made every effort to assemble them quietly. He offered one to Ezri, letting her glide directly up to Rali’s bedside, then he situated his own nearby. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Julian said gently. “How are you feeling? A bit sore?”

Rali blinked heavily but eventually managed to keep her eyes open long enough to meet her father’s gaze.

“A lot,” she said. 

Her voice was hoarse, and Ezri felt alternating impressions of sympathy and pure sadness. Ezri brushed Rali’s cheek, wiping away unshed tears. Rali made an effort to smile, which Julian was all too eager to mirror. 

“A  _ lot  _ sore?” Julian clarified. 

“Oh, no,” Rali said. “No, no, no… no… I’m feeling a lot. You asked how I was feeling.”

“A lot of good, bad, or something in between?” Ezri tried to make herself feel useful. 

“I feel good!” Rali’s voice broke under the excitement, and Julian leaned in to make some modifications to her hypodrip - which ran constantly during the procedure in place of an archaic IV. 

Other procedures relied solely on stasis fields, but because Julian preferred the symbiont to be conscious, he had developed a vast array of technologies to make that preference a reality. Rali’s bed was surrounded by machines of various purposes and manufacturing dates, which Julian conducted seamlessly together like a symphony. 

“You will feel the potassium, I’m afraid,” Julian explained, modifying the controls on one of the machines which fed into Rali’s veins. “But I can administer pain relief a few minutes later. It’s important you stay warm and relatively still; the transport-beam catheter coordinates will have to stay active for at least another hour, and the electric blanket for three or four. If you feel up to eating, you can do soft foods by mouth, then we’ll try solid foods by the end of the week.”

“Jevess is what we’re supposed to eat,” Rali said. “Why wasn’t mom’s so many steps?”

“Because mum’s was a  _ Disjoining,  _ and hers was the first procedure I did--” Julian smiled. 

“Jadzia’s twice,” Rali corrected, crossing her arms over her chest, then wincing and setting them back down at her sides. 

“Yes, and I was still making some modifications to the process,” Julian said. “ _ And _ , because you’re half human, and your immune system might have a few tricks to play on us, that’s all. Try not to get worked up about it, sweetheart. Lie still...”

“I’m not upset,” Rali insisted. “I’m… just talking about it because I am… wanting to do it. The talking.”

“Well,” Julian observed, fondly, “I won’t argue with  _ that _ . I’m very glad to hear that, sweetheart.”

Ezri observed the two of them, and smiled. 

“I’ll order us dinner,” she offered. 

“I don’t like it on toast,” Rali said, disputing Ezri’s own preference. “Treacle and apples and baked soft. Please, sorry. Please, that way.”

“Sure, Rali,” Ezri agreed. “They’ll have to replicate those ingredients, though. Those are from Earth.”

“I’ll have the same,” Julian added, “if the canteen can manage it. I know it’s a bit late...”

“I’ll find out for you.”

She consulted the menu from the computer console on the other end of the room. When she turned and sat down at it, she noticed the others had cleared from the viewing area outside. 

Meanwhile, Julian, administered the pain relief Rali was waiting for, and she began to move her arms, hesitantly at first and then with more strength. 

Rali tapped her chest and then sighed happily. In the past, the gesture was always done to no avail, signalling the desire to communicate but never coming to fruition. On rare occasions, she had given herself a bruise, and had to receive both dermal regeneration and a carefully worded lecture, a plea to  _ wait _ until she was ready. But then she moved on to caregiving, to cradling ailing symbionts in her arms and talking to them as long as they wished, learning all the details of all of their lifetimes. She kept memories and inaudible voices there against her symbiotic nerve, waiting for the day it could finally be  _ used,  _ and now that the moment had come, she felt  _ clarity _ . 

“She’s in there, and we feel good,” Rali decided. 

“I’m delighted to hear that,” Julian assured her. “Both of you did fantastically well.”

“But only…” Rali muddled through the words, because they occurred to her with greater speed and frequency than they had, in her youth, “only I don’t hear Dax now, if… not. It’s feeling a way I don’t hear at… right now.”

“I’m sorry?” Julian asked softly, glancing up at Dax, moving in lethargic circles within its tank. 

“No, you could always understand me, Dad,” she frowned, trying to overcome the new hurdle of aligning her thoughts with her voice. “I don’t hear that Dax is saying anything. Is it scared about me?”

Ezri looked up from the screen, where she had been typing away in the ‘special requests’ section of the menu selections, trying to ensure her family had exactly what they wanted for dinner. Acts of care like this delighted her, and Julian, and Rali too. She had not felt so connected to her immediate family in a long, long time, and it felt strange for her to look away from the task, even though this was traded for a glimpse of her family members, themselves. 

“You aren’t going to hear Dax, anymore, baby,” Ezri explained. “Not as loudly, anyway. You used to have all those different voices in your head, almost, from different symbionts, but now you just have one to focus on.”

Julian agreed with this gentle, psychological appraisal, and nodded.

“Your symbiotic nerve has been stimulated since before you were born,” he added. “We… well, we didn’t know you would  _ have  _ one, let alone the effects a loose symbiont would have on its development, but it… I wouldn’t have changed that about you. It allowed you to become such an amazing caretaker, and I know how much you loved being able to communicate in that way.”

“I can’t be a caretaker any time, again?” Rali asked, skeptical. “That’s… not what I want.”

“That’s not what we’re saying at all,” Julian kept his voice kind. 

“Unjoined people have always had better luck as caretakers,” Ezri said, at almost the same time. “But we… once you adjust to Miele’s voice, we think you’ll be able to hear others again, just… not as loudly.”

“And if you ever make the decision to separate, you can,” Julian reminded her. “But for now, you need to rest. Have some dinner, get your thoughts in order, we’ll lower your pain level, and then we’ll see how you feel about it.”

“I feel good about it,” Rali insisted. “To speak is good, but I want to know Dax can too. It’s two of our parents.” 

“Your mother and I will make sure it’s in perfect health,” Julian said. “We love it, just like we love you.”

***

Kira was breathless when she emerged from the temple with the  _ duranja  _ swinging from her hand. She could not bear to set it down, nor could she answer any of the questions she expected Ro to ask. 

But, with a fairly intuitive sense about her superior officer, Ro started with a simple one. 

“Are you alright?”

Kira nodded, tightened her grip on the driftwood handle, and then held it up higher for Ro to see. 

“This was lit for a friend of mine,” Kira said. “Jadzia.”

Upon seeing Kira in the first place, Ro had tucked her navigational padd away in one of the cases, but she had every intention of bringing up the anomaly. Now that she possessed both a glimpse of the wormhole and some strange behavior from her longtime companion, she was already sure the two acts were connected. She needed to know more about Kira’s perspective, first, before she could tie the two together.

“And… why did you move it?” Ro said firmly. “Even though I dropped out of the Monastery, I know soul-lamps are to be respected.”

“I meant no disrespect,” Kira replied, sounding more calm than she felt, with her heart thudding against the base of the lamp’s blown-glass enclosure. “I went to pray for Rali, and it… started glowing, and I felt as though it wasn’t at peace. It needs to be moved. I don’t know where, or who was trying to contact me in the first place, but it waited until I was there. I can’t ignore it.”

In years long-past, Ro would have vehemently denied spiritual claims, or shoved them aside as legends. But, from the time she was forced to consider herself as a wandering soul during her service on the  _ Enterprise _ to the times she could offer nothing but prayer to protect her Maquis brethren to the time she watched Kira accept grace and make great personal progress, she no longer acted so callously. Since joining Kira’s personal delegation, she had tried to find success in monastery classes of her own, but they did not suit her. Even though she eventually withdrew her application from the Order, she remained open and respectful to Kira’s beliefs, especially when they intersected with…

“The Emissary?” Ro asked softly. “While you were inside, I thought I saw light from the wormhole. I couldn’t find any other local reports, but that  _ must  _ be connected to this soul-lamp. Don’t you think so?”

Ro made every effort to tip her chin toward the lamp respectfully, without giving the appearance of sneering or dismissing it. Her face was often set in a negative or neutral expression at best, but Kira never faulted her. 

“I can try to contact him,” Kira agreed. “He’s never very consistent, though, in his methods. Sometimes I won’t see a sign again for  _ weeks _ , and it could be anything from a written scroll resurfacing to a shooting star I’m miraculously supposed to find the landing site of...”

“Then he could very well use a soul-lamp.”

“ _ Duranja, _ ” Kira said gently.

“I know,” replied Ro. “But I’m not ordained to touch them, even with my voice.”

Kira could not help but grin, which Ro mirrored - only on one side of her mouth - out of curiosity and a need to understand. 

“What?” Ro asked. 

“Is that why, after all these years of service, you  _ still  _ won’t call me Nerys?”

“That very service renders it improper, Vedek. When I find rules that I believe in, I also find it prudent to follow them. And I have tried  _ many  _ sets of rules in my life,” Ro admitted. “I would never disrespect you like that. Nor your friend’s memory.”

She nodded down to the lamp once more, and Kira’s expression softened. 

“I had so many friends—  _ family _ , who never got a proper burial,” Kira said, with the words broken and detached, pulled up from trauma she had almost completely interred, itself. “This is my chance to correct that.”

She took a step toward the center of the room, away from the constricted corridor and into the vast, clear marketplace of the former Promenade. From there, she had a better angle on the wormhole’s viewport, and she gave it a thoughtful smile, too. 

“I have our friend here, Captain,” she said. “I’ll take her safely to wherever she wants to go, wherever you  _ need  _ her.”

***

When their dinner eventually arrived, chilled and separated on to three metal trays, Julian lowered a bar across Rali’s bed, allowing her to reach out and feed herself at her leisure. She still felt the exhaustion of the procedure, but when tempered with Miele’s unpracticed excitement to experience life in a new body, she found herself stretching forward and groaning as she lifted her hand to hold a spoonful of Jevess. 

Ezri watched her and sympathized, as she recalled the physical therapy sessions Julian had led her through; after parting ways with Dax, she had to reverse some of the changes it had made to her body and preferences. Eating and writing with her right hand became painful and confusing until she focused on her own desires, and repeated the specialized exercises Julian recommended for her. She remembered this, and then the pain she endured when she was pregnant with Rali, so many years ago. But it all felt as though it occurred in the same moment. She was faced with the fear of miscarriage, then felt a sharpness in her belly.

She set her own tray aside and stood and pressed her hands to the imagined wound. Not knowing how else to soothe the memory, she treated it as a physical ailment. If it worked for her patients, it could be good enough for her… 

Julian glanced at her, from across Rali’s bed. Rali’s eyes eventually followed his, and Ezri sat down again while both of them stared at her. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling her hands away but leaving the skin underneath still feeling hot. “I think it was the stress… I think food is probably a good idea for all of us.”

Rali struggled but finished tipping a slice of steamed apple from the spoon into her mouth. She chewed it slowly as she took in her surroundings, and the words occurred to her before she felt quite ready to speak them. 

“D-Dax…” she stuttered, “isn’t feeling that way, now.”

“It isn’t feeling hungry?” Julian asked in a casual tone, already tucking in to the second half of his tartlet. Jevess made a somewhat grainy but very nutritious replacement for custard, and he swirled each bite of apple pastry through it before eating it, happy to follow Ezri’s advice. 

“Any type,” Rali tried to explain. “I told you it doesn’t feel a thing now. Stress, hungry, hurting.”

“That could be called ‘relief,’” Ezri said patiently. “Sometimes we get… very invested in something, we spend every moment thinking about it and worrying about it, and when it’s finally over, we need some quiet time before we catch up.”

“Are you feeling  _ relieved _ , old friend?” Julian asked, turning over his shoulder to look at Dax, in its tank. “We’ll make sure your dye pad’s working, and you can join in the conversation whenever you feel like it, hmm?”

It swam in a tight little circle, which Julian felt was a sufficient indication of its understanding. Ezri, still tingling with nervous energy, stood up again and fussed with the settings on the printing screen, until she was satisfied Dax could use it to communicate. But then she felt another strange pang in her abdomen, ringing up toward her chest this time, and she stumbled to reach her chair before her knees could give out under the pressure. She felt frozen - not cold, but static - and the image of Dax floating in its tank did not comfort her. 

She felt Julian’s hands both wrapped firmly around one of her arms, keeping her still in her seat. He had rushed around from the other side of the bed to help steady her, while Rali watched and mumbled through dozens of half-formed questions, not knowing which was most important. 

“I should get some rest…” Ezri began saying, while Julian lovingly shushed her and reached for one of his scanners. 

“No, not just yet,” Julian said. “You’re experiencing a bradycardic event - something which has disrupted your heart rate, and slowed it down.”

“Could that… still be from all the stress?”

“Possibly. But ordinarily, anxiety would  _ increase _ your heart rate. Sit still for a moment; I can stabilize it with a hypospray series.”

“But why is it d--”

“We’ll find out,” he assured her, touching her arm gently before reaching to program the hypospray formulas he needed. “I promise I’ll get you an answer, just as soon as you’re stabilized.”

Ezri reclined and let him do his work, feeling alternately somber and sentimental when Rali spoke.

“You’ll feel better,” Rali said. “Dad can make anyone feel better.”

“I like to think so,” Julian smiled sheepishly. 

***

Late into the station’s artificial night, Kira and Ro felt a renewed sense of inspiration. They had prayed together in the cabin they were renting for the duration of the visit, with Kira stroking her fingers over the  _ duranja _ ’s driftwood handle and Ro kneeling a safe distance away, eyes closed and head bowed nearly to the floor.

While Kira could not claim to get any clear sense of Sisko’s guidance - the last time she had been present for that was when Ezri returned to the station to understand her own identity - she began feeling more determined to finish the task. 

“Temple or not,” Kira decided, “whose soul would want to stay in the place their body was murdered?”

“I would certainly not find that restful,” Ro agreed. 

This mandated the Infirmary as their first stop. 

The Infirmary was still in operation, offering free services for travelers and those permanently displaced by the Wars. The Federation had deemed the area stable and withdrawn years ago, but many veterans and victims still required intensive care that simply could not be offered by the field hospitals on the planets’ surfaces, especially when they were still under construction. The main Cardassian hospital had been a tent for the years it took Julian to move his life there, and the Bajorans were only a few developmental steps ahead after finally recovering from their own world’s violent Occupation. In fact, for many years, the primary medical centers on Bajor treated only Cardassian patients - run by the Cardassian government to keep their dignitaries and soldiers in good health - while centers on Cardassia were tailored to Bajoran patients - although for cruel experiments instead of the preservation of life. The Infirmary on Deep Space Nine had of course been used by both races, then expanded to include care protocols and specialized equipment for hundreds more. Kira never thought it would number among her favorite places, but as she and Ro walked there to complete their mission, she thought it was wonderful. 

Even from across the former Promenade, she could see an elderly Bajoran receiving adjustments to their prosthetic knee. A young woman with very faint Cardassian orbital ridges sat in a chair beside the old Bajoran, holding their hand and speaking words of comfort. In another seat, a young Cardassian child rocked back and forth while a dental aide carefully moved their egg-tooth in the same manner, jostling it free and then immediately numbing the spot with a specialized candy. Further back, a man in a nurse’s tunic was dispensing medication for another patient and pointing out the service directory, which visitors could consult to find other helpful resources ranging from counseling to locating lost relatives. Kira stopped to read the directory, herself, as she and Ro made their final approach. 

“That’s exactly what we’re here to do,” she explained to the nurse, making a sweeping gesture to the engraved entry for ‘Finding a Family Member.’

The intricate knitted loops of her sleeve-cuff touched the inscription gently, and the nurse welcomed her and Ro inside. Kira declined his offer of more help, keeping a protective grip on the lamp and covering it with her oversized sleeves. 

“I’ve been here many times, Nurse Tarra,” she said, reading his name badge. Even this was printed in Bajoran and Cardassian, with a blank screen below available to interpret the pronunciation into any language necessary for a patient to feel comfortable. “But thank you for your service.”

He returned the same sentiment to her, adding a respectful utterance of ‘ _ Vedek _ ’ to the end, and Kira smiled as she led Ro into the depths of the Infirmary. 

She expected herself to feel sad, but the sense of duty and the politeness behind the gesture kept her floating above it. Moving the lamp at all was a great leap from tradition, but she could not imagine Jadzia wanting to be trapped in  _ tradition _ . 

Then, they arrived outside the wing of operating rooms. The rooms themselves were private, but the triage and preparation areas were shared by a handful of standard biobeds. It was designed to be efficient by Cardassian standards, but Kira was pleased to see some warm Bajoran and Federation touches still in place. The beds were cushioned, for a start, and the plaque with Julian’s name on it was still posted outside of the first surgical room. She placed it there, after he resigned from Starfleet. A very similar one had been posted before, citing his qualifications as the station’s Chief Medical Officer, but Kira had modified this list after enrolling him as one of her officers. That decision still brought her great pride; he was an exemplary officer and the best physician she had ever worked with. 

Keeping this in mind, she took the lamp into the fateful operating room, relieved to find it empty of workers and patients. She set it down at the head of the biobed, and she could imagine - with staggering detail and clarity - Worf howling to announce Jadzia’s departure for Sto’Vo’Kor, Julian breaking his professional composure to cry with his back turned and the sleeve of his surgical scrubs obscuring his eyes and then rubbing them until they were just as red as the uniform, Sisko solemnly reflecting on not one friend but two…

“Captain,” Kira said quietly, finally removing her hand from the lamp, “we’re here. Ahn-kay ya, ay-ya vasu. Coh-ma-ra, di-nay-ya…”

Ro recognized the beginning of the long, repetitive death chant, and despite expressing dislike for it in the past, one was not required to be ordained to recite it. So, out of respect for Kira, she joined in, her voice calm and collected. 

Outside, the nurse could hear them. He knocked softly at the door frame before Kira turned and nodded to grant him admittance. The invitation was taken next by the dental aide, then the first doctor and his patient. Then the part-Cardassian woman, then the little Cardassian child and their parents… 

Kira wept. 

All of them knew the words, and they kept their voices soft, supporting Kira but letting her lead. She could not let the faultline of tears splinter her composure, not when so many gathered to rely on her, and to lift her up - both at once. 

She paused at the first coda, unsure if the entire chant was merited by someone who had been dead for so many years. Her audience was unaware of this, but each of them went quiet, too, when Kira turned to look at each of them in turn. 

“I appreciate that,” she said. “But it happened, um—”

The lamp regained her attention, as it began glowing, blue and bright. When she touched the driftwood, it was hot to the touch, and she withdrew her hand and wiped it along the side of her robe. Her audience continued offering support, with the doctor asking to see her hand, and the others all expressing amazement. 

“It must be a sign, Vedek,” the nurse said. “I wish I knew of what.”

“You and I both,” Kira replied, once the doctor deemed her hand unharmed. “Would you mind if I stayed here, in this room, overnight?”

“Not at all, Vedek.”

***

The following morning, Ezri awoke to soft, overlapping chatter. All at once, the voices dissolved into silence, then toppled each other in excited, ever-increasing volume. Lenara’s won her attention, in the end, as she expressed the simple joy of seeing Ezri open her eyes. 

Ezri blinked slowly, but felt as cloudy as the pot of tea she saw approaching her. Elim was holding it out in offering, dunking the sachet of herbs and flowers repeatedly in the water to speed the brewing process. As she watched him set it down, she realized she was in a hospital bed, with a tray extended between the side rails. Rali was situated in a similar bed, to her right, and she assumed they had both been moved to a larger recovery room. Elim, Lenara, Kelas, and Julian were all able to sit and oversee them without Ezri feeling crowded. She knew Elim had a lower tolerance for such settings, and she watched him closely to see if he was feeling comfortable, too. He set down the tea and stepped away, choosing to go and sit close beside Julian, seeming right at home. 

“Parsley and candied lemon peel,” Kelas said, nodding down at the teapot. 

“Thank you,” Ezri mumbled, finding her voice hoarse. “Julian… did you find out what happened?”

She could hear Julian’s chair scraping against the floor as he scooted up to her bedside. Elim followed, leaning his weight almost fully into Julian’s shoulder, smiling to himself when Julian reached to stroke his hand. 

“Yes,” he said, calmly. “Stress, just as you thought it was.”

“What… that’s it?” she pouted up at him, a timeless expression that always brought a smile out of him, in return. 

“Yes,” he repeated, hoping a nod would help reassure her. “I could liken it to postpartum depression, in a way… you see, you’ve been very emotional about Rali’s procedure - which is completely understandable - and your body registered the sudden feeling of relief, itself, as an attack. It appears to be an isolated autoimmune response, originating from your symbiotic nerve cluster.”

“I don’t understand. I was… thinking back to the pregnancy, and… I felt this pain in my stomach.”

“We know that being in close proximity to Dax can trigger stronger responses, especially if both of you are already worrying about the same thing!”

Ezri recalled the last feeling she could remember clearly, of seeing Dax stilling in its tank. 

“Did you… Julian, did you  _ put me in stasis _ ?”

“What? No, of course not. I gave you a hypospray to help you sleep; it was easier for me to return your heart rate to normal when you were at rest, instead of when you were awake and anxious.”

“But it was slower than normal. It was  _ like  _ I was in stasis.”

“If I may say so,” Elim spoke up, “associative memory events are not uncommon among Cardassians. Perhaps it is something I could offer advice on? Or, at the very least, a coping strategy - as far as I understand the term in your usual context, Counselor.”

“...Sure,” Ezri agreed, and reached out for the glass teapot. 

She wanted to fill her cup and have a sip, but she winced and withdrew in pain the same as Rali had, the day before. In a panic, she turned to look at Rali, wondering if she was still suffering the effects of the surgery. To Ezri, it felt like agony. 

“Rali…?” she said slowly. “Are you--?”

“I’m feeling good,” Rali said. “You remember it differently than I do.”

Ezri turned to face Julian again. 

“What about Dax?” she asked. “Has it said anything since last night?”

“No,” Rali interjected, pouting indignantly just like her mother. “Dad won’t let me talk to it anymore.”

“That isn’t what I said, sweetheart,” Julian tried to keep a measured tone. “I said  _ not right now _ . You  _ know  _ that doesn’t mean  _ indefinitely _ . You still need to rest and get acclimated to your own symbiont.”

“I don’t own any symbiont,” Rali muttered back. “Miele is me.”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to a friendly debate on our shuttle ride, dear,” Elim said, impressed. “You usually do better with your technicalities than  _ that _ , Julian.”

“It’s possible Dax needs time to process these emotions in its own way,” Julian explained, dismissing Elim with a playful wave of his hand, “but I’ve spoken to it, and made sure its tank is operating at all the proper nutrient levels. I’m going to give it until tomorrow, but I don’t think it’s in any serious danger.”

Julian helped Ezri pour the tea into her own cup, and he watched as she raised her hand to drink it. 

The pain had subsided, but she still felt as if her movements were lagging, lethargic, sedated. 

“Is it…” she mumbled, quietly, “ _ is it Decaying _ ?”

“I don’t think so,” Julian said. “It’s in the prime of its life.”

Lenara had been quiet since Ezri first awoke, but she spoke up from the back of the little group, folding her hands together in front of herself as if beginning a grand, practiced oration. 

“You’ll get through to it,” she said. “You always do.”

***

Kira did not get any sleep. 

Despite cutting off the chant after only several minutes and sending the congregation away, the room felt crowded, deafening, and overwhelming. She crouched beside the bed, watching the  _ duranja  _ from every angle, trying to make sense of the spontaneous flickering. 

Ro spent the night awake, too, standing a few paces behind Kira and frequently glancing over her shoulder to check the operating room door for visitors. Kira knelt in near-silent prayer, lips forming passages Ro did not feel worthy of repeating, and the night passed slowly. 

“I don’t understand it,” Kira announced, after awhile, standing and dusting her hands off against the draped stole she wore. “I haven’t felt this-- this frustrated in years!”

“I can believe that,” Ro said. 

“I know his methods are unconventional, but it’s not like him to just ignore me. This… I mean, shouldn’t this be a more comfortable place for her soul to rest? I can--” her voice broke, under sleeplessness and stress, “I can remember it so  _ clearly _ , I can see Doctor Bashir coming out to meet us. Shaking his head, putting out his hands, looking  _ hopeless _ .”

She turned to face Ro, but caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the glass partition, and paused to study herself. 

“Like I’m doing now,” she said, feeling the challenge begin to rise in her chest. 

Kira stood and carefully picked up the lamp, lending it warmth from her hands, as they had been clasped together - one resting inside the other - in prayer all night. 

“I’m not talking to the Emissary,” Kira said. “He flew off in some flash of light, you saw him.”

Ro nodded. 

“I’m  _ only  _ talking to Jadzia,” Kira went on. “Her body might’ve died, but part of her soul is still alive out there.”

“Joined Trill are fascinating,” Ro agreed, in her own guarded way. “But I imagine that soul - like myself - is not well versed in Bajoran… spiritualism. She would not know how to reply to you.”

“ _ Exactly _ . I need to bring her to Ezri and Julian, they’ll be able to help.  _ Why did it take me so long to see that _ ?! Have I really lost all my--”

She was interrupted by a meek chirp from her communicator, and her peculiar timing and self-doubt were explained simultaneously. 

“That’s coming in from beyond our standard communication range,” Ro said, in reference to the halfhearted sound that came from Kira’s badge. 

She nodded in understanding, then pressed her finger to it, and she heard Jake Sisko’s voice. He sounded like the excitable child she knew years ago, dulled by the loss of his mother but always delighted by the attention of…

“My father’s here,” he said. “On earth. He wanted you to know… and  _ I  _ wanted you to know how grateful I am. Thank you, for sending him home.”

***

The rest of that afternoon - and the entire day following - passed in a blur for Ezri. She felt strong enough to stand, but found her legs wobbly, not ready to move at the pace she wanted to go. Julian and Lenara were present for her to lean on, and she felt deep gratitude but could only mumble short phrases to express it. She remained at the mercy of painful, conflicting memories, and she spent much of her time huddled up on the sofa in the center pod of her and Lenara’s home, accepting whatever company she could keep. 

Rali, meanwhile, talked at length about her interests. These had always been obvious to the cyclical group of parents who had raised her, but Julian was thrilled to hear her speak, and kept trying to nod toward Ezri when Rali said something that reminded him of himself. At the end of her speech, Rali expressed a desire to go swimming, which Julian approved of, on the condition she did not come in contact with other symbionts. 

“I wanted to see my friends,” she sighed, in vague reference to the other caregivers and the symbionts they kept watch over, “but fine. I’ll go to the Baths instead. Warm ones can be nice. You and Elim and Kelas were all going to them.”

“Yes,” Julian said, “but I think I’d better stay and keep an eye on - er - your mothers, for the time being.”

Dax had come home from the hospital with them, and Julian carefully relocated it from its compact tank to the larger one installed in the house. At times, it preferred the company of its humanoids to other symbionts, and would reside quite happily in the curved glass enclosure, lit and warmed and stocked with all the vitamins and minerals it needed. Julian kept a close watch on the tank monitor, verifying these levels were correct and waiting to see if Dax began to communicate again. 

“You go ahead, sweetheart,” Julian added. “Bring your jacket, just in case. I’ll be there later.”

“It’s warm,” she said, smiling and going to collect her coat from the rack.

The little procession departed, with Rali leading the way, and Lenara and Kelas following, sending a cold gust of air in from outside. Elim stood and took several paces forward, glancing back and forth between the door and Julian. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” Julian said, convincing no one. “I only need to check a few more things…”

“Actually,” said Elim, “I thought I might offer some advice to our mutual friend…”

The use of this title caught Ezri’s attention, and she launched into several attempts at conversation: how Dax and Kahn were the mutual friends who introduced her and Lenara and happily watched them fall in love on their own, how Rali had been missing the company of the other caregivers for weeks and worried they would not understand each other intuitively now that she was Joined, how many friends Jadzia had made during her brief posting to Deep Space Nine.

Elim sat down on the couch beside her, at a respectful distance, and waited patiently for her to finish speaking. Julian watched and listened, splitting his attention between Elim, Ezri, and Dax. 

“It sounds like you and I have been spending too much time together,” he said, grinning weakly. “I thought  _ I  _ was the one with the tendency to ramble. Although it does seem Rali Miele is headed that way, as well.”

“Those topics are, in a way, precisely what I’d like to speak to you about, Captain Tigan,” Elim said, primly crossing his legs and then leaning into the sofa’s cushioned embrace. “Cardassian memory patterns are highly associative, and based on your recent behavior, I cannot help but fear it is  _ my  _ presence which is causing you discomfort.”

“What?” Ezri asked. 

“Of course I cannot speak to the exact nature of your telepathic abilities - as well as the simply  _ fascinating  _ empathetic sense you have honed as part of your vocation - but I know these urges are stronger in the company of the Dax symbiont. I can only assume the extended company of others with whom you share important memories would have a similar effect.”

“That’s… thoughtful of you, Garak,” she slowly replied, “but I don’t think that’s it. I’ve had a lot on my mind the past few days, and I haven’t gotten enough rest. Things can get jumbled; it feels like I’m-- wait, no, that’s not right…”

She trailed off, unable to find her way until Elim met her gaze and prompted her. 

“I beg your pardon?” he said softly.

“I was about to say, ‘it feels like I’m not Joined to me yet.’ I mean… sure, it feels like before I was Joined, but it doesn’t… feel like  _ me _ ?”

“That certainly sounds like interference from Dax,” Julian quickly diagnosed her confusion. 

“But as far as we can tell,” Elim corrected, “Dax is not currently communicating  _ anything _ .”

“No, not at this exact moment,” Julian said. “But it needn’t be writing every thought out for us, all the time. It’s allowed some privacy, like anyone else.”

Despite hearing the argument made by his own mouth, Julian closed the gap between himself and Dax’s tank, tracing two captivated fingers over the etched design on the glass. There was a youthful spark in his eye, and he recalled the time he was more prone to experimentation. He slipped his fingers beneath the air-tight lid, and Dax immediately swam upward in response to the change in pressure. This made Julian smile, and he made sure Elim and Ezri both saw this before he turned to face Dax, completely. 

“Hello, old friend,” he said casually. “See, I knew you were still in there  _ somewhere _ . Just taking it a little slower than the rest of us, hmm?”

His fingertip broke the still surface of the water, and before he could question Dax’s intentions, the symbiont was coiled around his wrist. He was accustomed to its feelers, its symbiotic nerves, the soft nubby teeth arranged in circles within its mouth like a suction cup. When Dax wanted to remain in place, it certainly could, and it showed no further signs of lethargy or lack of communication. 

Julian was the only one to see the thoughts Dax was experiencing, but he had a hard time making sense of them. It felt both painful and static, like Ezri had suggested, and when Dax let go of him, he was left with lingering memories of Jadzia’s death. He wondered how long Dax had been in contact with him, as he watched it retreat to the bottom of its tank. Ezri and Elim looked at him with varying degrees of concern, and he assumed it had only lasted several seconds. 

“What did it say?” Ezri asked. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Julian said, “it… seemed to be wondering why I wasn’t mourning Jadzia, at that moment. I… that was almost thirty years ago. I like to think I’ve put that behind me.”

“Thirty years is like  _ that  _ for a symbiont, though,” Ezri countered, snapping her finger to illustrate her point. “Something about Rali’s procedure must have reminded it.”

“I hope not.”

“You were the responsible party in both instances,” Elim tried to be helpful. 

“But Rali’s Joining procedure was different in every other  _ possible  _ way,” Julian said. “From the--”

He was interrupted by a buzz from a nearby communication screen. Ezri excused this as the console in the kitchen, where she and Lenara received their personal messages. She had cleared the screens from the bedrooms as they had simply become too distracting, and Rali disliked the near-constant noise in such close proximity to her bed. 

“I’ll have them call back,” Ezri said, leaning forward and preparing to stand. 

Julian caught her where she was, and insisted she continue resting her legs. 

“I can handle  _ that _ ,” he said, already weaving his nimble way around the couch, Dax’s tank, and the kitchen table to reach the console. 

He found the active channel with ease, and pressed the blinking button with every intent to apologize and request a later correspondence. But then he saw the coordinates the message originated from, and opened the channel. 

“Julian…” Kira said, peering up at him from the odd angle of the console screen. “Of course you’re still there, too. Listen, I need your help, both of you.”

“Ezri and I?” Julian clarified, and hunched down for Kira’s benefit. 

“Yes. And it’s not an assignment, just a personal favor. I think I have something here that belongs to you, and I need your help to--”

“Ezri hasn’t been feeling well. Is it something I could d--”

Kira cut him off in kind:

“It’s Jadzia. Sisko’s back on Earth, with Jake. And Jadzia’s memorial lamp won’t stop moving. I need you to help me communicate with her.” Kira’s voice returned to that of Julian’s commanding officer, not just a Vedek steeped in prayer, “I’m getting on a shuttle in a few minutes. I’ll see you tonight.”

Ezri’s eyes went wide, but she felt clarity instead of confusion. Her unexplained ailments and Dax’s withdrawn nature began to make sense. She turned to look at Elim, who read her expressions with ease.

“I would be delighted to help prepare for our guest’s arrival,” he said, already standing and dusting off the cushion he had been leaning against. “After all these years, I have yet to find anything which brings me more joy than a simple nesting ritual.”

Julian assured Ezri this was true, then urged her to continue resting while he and Elim arranged the living room. 

***

Lenara, Kelas, and Rali returned from their outing in time to crowd around the kitchen table and watch Kira’s shuttle signal come into range on the screen. Of course, Kelas had made themself at home with the contents of the kitchen, and was able to prepare an array of warm beverages and nutritious snacks for the household. Julian happily took the responsibility of explaining the circumstances to everyone, catching them up on the communication they were not present for, while Rali patiently waited her turn to tell him all about the sauna she had visited. 

“It was even warmer and more humid than the caves!” she said. “Do you think Aunt Kira would want to visit it for real? Jadzia had taken her to visit a projection, once, a - umm…? - a holosuite one, once.”

“Yes, I think I remember hearing about that,” Julian said. “Keep those memories about Jadzia at the top of your mind, sweetheart; we might be able to use your help.”

“We don’t know exactly what we’re getting into, here,” Ezri added. “But I think your dad might be right.”

When the door chimed, Kelas and Elim stepped toward the back of the room, eager to stay out of the way. Kira and Ro were able to transport down from a commuter shuttle, as they knew the coordinates to Ezri and Lenara’s homestead. 

Ezri remained resigned to her seat, but helped to clear space on the table, welcoming the two Bajorans to eat and drink whatever they wanted from the trays. Julian’s eyes remained fixed on Kira, especially as she declined the offers of chairs and foods, and prioritized reaching inside one of her suitcases to remove Jadzia’s memorial lamp. 

He watched it tremble and flash with light as she touched the delicate handle, then set it down carefully in the center of the table. 

“It’s been like this since I first saw it. More or less,” Kira said. 

“I saw an anomaly near the wormhole’s sector at the same time,” Ro went on. “Then we learned the Emissary had returned home to Earth, and it seems his absence disturbed her peaceful rest…”

“Yes, I see,” Julian replied, with a subtle nod. “And you want us to figure out where she’d feel most comfortable?”

“Yes,” said Kira, tossing her arms. “If not here, where?”

“If you could give me a few minutes, Nerys,” Ezri said, as she slowly got on her feet, “I have some items in my collection we could give her. Like an offering…?”

Lenara knew intuitively what Ezri needed, and offered out her arm to take on Ezri’s weight, allowing them to walk together across the house. As they made their way to Rali’s bedroom, Rali gasped with sudden recollection, and rushed to meet them. 

“I’ve never worn it,” she exclaimed, disappearing into the little circular room. “It would be perfect!”

Like Ezri had done with many of Dax’s relatives in the past, she collected several of Jadzia’s personal effects. She did not feel comfortable requesting these immediately after Joining to Dax, out of respect for Jadzia’s grieving parents, but over the years the distance was mended. Jadzia’s parents provided several articles of clothing, especially from Jadzia’s youth, as well as her school records. Worf kept some of her possessions from their shared quarters, but it was Julian - after some years of living comfortably on Cardassia - who gained access to the hair-clip from her autopsy vault. This was kept under Federation control for a traditional span of ten years, allowing for research and revisitation, and then granted to the original physician to disperse as they saw fit. Despite his years of association with the Bajoran militia, he received his summons for Jadzia’s locker, among dozens of war casualties that had lapsed into recurrence at the same time. He also remembered calling to ask Worf’s blessing on behalf of Ezri’s ongoing research, before keeping any of the items inside the vault. Worf’s reaction was lukewarm at best - perhaps he was not so deeply affected, after all these years - and so was Julian’s, when he took the silver clip out of its sterile case and made a special detour to Trill to deliver it. 

“I think it would,” Julian said softly, already guessing the special item Rali had in mind. 

Kira settled down to sit on the armrest beside him, making the small room feel even more crowded despite the absence of three members of the family. Julian looked over his shoulder to make sure Elim was not displaying any symptoms of his claustrophobia; he seemed fine for the time being, so Julian stared intently down at the lamp again. 

He felt like the crowd was appropriate, both to offer protection and to indulge Jadzia as the center of attention. The discomfort even faded from Ro’s face as she adjusted to her new surroundings, and went to stand like a stone lion at Kira’s side. 

Soon, Rali returned from the bedroom with her mothers behind her. She clutched the special hair clip in one hand, and knelt before the lamp to offer it. 

Ezri was grateful to be offered a chair again, with Julian scooting aside to make room. She sat and sighed as if the short journey had drained her, and Julian made careful observations to himself as she leaned back in her seat. 

“Where does it need to go?” Rali asked. “Auntie…?”

Kira was already watching the proceedings closely, but had to clear her throat and consider the question. 

“Um… we generally don’t bring physical offerings. Some ceremonies use incense sticks and written scrolls, but those are placed in vases, not  _ duranjas _ …”

“Just set it next to the lamp, sweetie,” Ezri summarized. 

She and Julian both saw the change in their daughter’s demeanor, the way she bowed her head in a sign of solemn respect, and the way her hand did not shake or move beyond its means. They shared a knowing nod with one another, and then watched Rali complete the task. 

With no change in the lamp’s behavior - quaking and flickering - Rali scooted the clip in closer, closer, until the decorative silver circles were in contact with the side of the enclosure. The movement stopped, but the light inside continued to waver, and Rali turned to share her surprise with the rest of the room. 

“More like this,” Rali announced, before dashing back to her bedroom to pull one of Jadzia’s tunics from the display shelves. 

She returned to wrap this around the lamp, moving gently as if calming a shivering Cardassian  _ taya _ , and then she peeked underneath the fabric to see if the light inside had changed its intensity. It still echoed outward in a pale blue, and she turned in time to see Dax copying the pattern. 

“Of course I couldn’t think of it, Miele wouldn’t know it,” she babbled, standing up and going to look at Dax in its tank. “I can’t hear what it’s saying, still. Mom?”

“The translation should come through on the dye pad any second now,” Ezri tried to reassure her. 

“But I should be able to just  _ know it _ ,” Rali remained frustrated, and tried swaddling the lamp even more tightly, to dull the light from Dax’s perception. “I used to just know before I was Joined.” 

“Oh,” Kira said quietly, reaching to touch Rali’s shoulder, “I’m sorry for not congratulating you sooner, Ms.  _ Miele _ . You look like you’re doing great; I knew you would.”

Rali shrugged, but a glare from Julian compelled her to add a ‘thank you, Auntie,’ before she returned to her work with the  _ duranja _ . 

While she did this, rocking it in her arms like a newborn, Dax continued displaying vibrant patterns along its spotted sides, and Rali grew increasingly frustrated. 

“I want to know what it’s saying,” she said, looking Julian directly in the eye.

The dye pad eventually began conveying simplified versions of the messages, but Rali still felt she was lacking all of the memories that usually accompanied the words Dax picked out. 

**> JOIN   
** **> NOT FINISHED**

“I don’t know, still,” Rali said, tossing her arms the same way Kira had, earlier. 

“Sweetheart,” Julian did his best to calm her, “you might never know what Dax is thinking again, but I promise you it  _ is  _ thinking. You have your own symbiont right now to focus on. If you want to have the process reversed, we can certainly approach that in a few days, once you get a feel for it. This is  _ your  _ decision, but we shouldn’t rush a—”

“We should take them both--  _ all _ ,” Ezri began putting pieces of her own together, “we should all go to the Caves. That’s the best place for communicating with a symbiont, and maybe Dax can act as a medium, the way Vedek Kira does for Sisko…”

**> YES** **  
** **> FINISH**

“Well,” Kira said, folding her hands in her lap, “I haven’t been very good at that, lately.”

“I beg to differ,” Julian said gently, directing her attention to the dye pad. “This is something all of us need to work out together.”

All of them,  _ together _ , braced for the perilous mid-winter trek to the Cave. Elim, Kelas, and Julian kept heavy coats stored at the residence for decades, and made good use of them with each visit regardless of the season. They loaned two spares to their Bajoran visitors, who were equally unacclimated to the weather. Ro remained at the back of the procession, holding up the train of Kira’s robes so they could not become wet or stained, even as they descended the uneven stone steps of the Cave itself. 

Now that she was Joined, Rali’s balance was noticeably better than it was before. She led the way with the lamp in one hand and Jadzia’s hair clip in the other, but both were perfectly safe; she never stumbled and caught herself with her hands along the edge of a jagged rock. Behind her, her assortment of parents looked at each other and made quiet appraisals. 

“I hear you all,” Rali mumbled, turning briefly to look over her shoulder. 

“We know, sweetheart. It isn’t a secret. We’re proud of you,” Julian explained. 

Rali settled at the mouth of Dax’s preferred communal pond, where some of its Unjoined and Disjoined friends still resided, where it had raised its singling and where others raised theirs, in appreciation of Ezri’s protection. 

“Dax, too?” Rali asked, in a meek little voice. “I don’t hear it.”

“It doesn’t have a voice like ours,” Ezri reminded her. “I’m sure it’s proud too.”

She set down Dax’s portable tank beside Rali, where gentle tides from the pond caressed the rocky shore, smoothing its edges after centuries of repetition. Dax rocked with the motion, and Rali soothed herself by watching this, and by touching her hand to her chest. It was a gesture she repeated frequently, but now - with a symbiont present beneath her palm - there was additional meaning, additional stimulus. 

Carefully, Ezri crouched down between Dax and Rali, and reached out to touch the  _ duranja _ ’s handle. With her fingers still curled around the driftwood, she nestled it into the softened rocks, and let the water touch at its leisure. 

“Um… Jadzia, if you’re in there…” Ezri began, unsure of what else to say. 

“We want to hear you,” Rali added.

Hushed, Kira came to join them, while Ro lovingly sighed and gave up on holding Kira’s dress-train out of the murky snow. Julian, Kelas, and Elim exchanged glances, but did not interrupt. 

At this point, the tide touched both Dax’s enclosure and the lamp, even soaking Ezri’s fingertips as they held it steady, and a broken voice answered their calls. 

“I… came to see my children,” Jadzia said, muffled by the water. 

Inside the lamp, she still felt heavy, and could not lift her chin enough to speak uninhibited. Water cascaded down her metaphorical throat, but still she spluttered, causing Ezri to wince and raise the lamp. Jadzia’s spirit felt as if it was falling, tumbling down an endless flight of stairs, and flying upside-down in a high-speed shuttle all at once. Crashing, performing daring feats, struggling and feeling great pride… 

“They aren’t here… are they?” Jadzia’s voice went on, slowly filtering through the water. 

Kira held her palm directly over the surface of the water, waiting to be invited to touch it, as if making hesitant contact with an entirely new race for the first time. 

“Are you a prophet,” she asked, “using this consciousness as a vessel?”

“You don’t recognize your friend?” Jadzia’s voice proceeded, in a playfully taunting tone that answered the question far more clearly than the words themselves did. 

“What children?” Kira led her forward, while looking at Ezri as if for guidance. 

Ezri merely shrugged, and asked if perhaps this was Dax speaking on her behalf. 

“I don’t have Dax anymore,” Jadzia insisted. “I was alone. No… I was with Benjamin, actually. He went to see his children, and thought I should do the same…”

Ezri let her hand slip further into the warm water, fingers seeming to bend and distort under the surface, thick and tinged white. She felt a sense of discomfort, soft pangs in her belly and her chest, and the looming suspicion she would not be steady if she tried to get to her feet. Therefore, the pond became her only consolation, and she did not stop until her forearm was submerged all the way to her elbow, with the lamp dangling into the depths beneath. The symbionts inside the pool cleared out of her way, and she suddenly felt compelled to make a request. 

“Move them out,” she said, to no one in particular. “She can’t focus, with all of them right here.”

Rali and Julian urgently lent their hands to complete her request, attentively scooping up each symbiont and releasing them into another pool nearby. All the waterbeds were connected in some way or another, by thin tributaries or muddy marsh-grounds thick with perennial weeds, where water would sometimes collect and flow up from the ground beneath, or melt in from the snow that drizzled down from the opening of the cave. Ezri ordered these sources of flow be cut off, next, and she found Kelas, Elim, and Ro all leaning over to obscure the paths with mud and rocks, until each was fully stemmed. Symbionts were able to communicate with one another easily when sharing a physical space, so Ezri sought to stop this interference. 

“It hurt, didn’t it?” Jadzia observed.

“What did?” Ezri asked. 

The blue glow from the lamp seemed to drip and dilute into the water like paint, then it all collected and moved upward again. A recreation of Jadzia’s body was the result, fluid and semi-translucent, but making its best effort at nodding at Ezri’s midsection. 

“Your miscarriage. Mine did, too,” she said. 

Ezri relied on all of her Starfleet training to remain calm, peering into the uncertain eyes of an alien visitor, and clearly into those of a patient in need. A friend, in fact. A predecessor. 

“I haven’t had a miscarriage,” Ezri said. “I was… remembering when I  _ thought  _ I’d had one, but that was years ago. Lenara and I are too old for that, now, and we’re almost never in physical sync…”

“Jadzia, I’m--” Julian felt as though he was delivering the somber news to a patient of his own, with Jadzia more confused and naive now than he remembered. “You died, before you had that chance - but I felt it was inevitable, yes. Does it… feel like a phaser-burn, to your abdomen?”

“Yes,” said Ezri, recalling the pain she felt in the preceding days. 

“No, Julian,” said Jadzia, at roughly the same time. “Just because  _ you  _ don’t know the answer doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Her figure wavered but remained more or less solid, and Julian sighed. 

“Worf…” she recalled, smiling then promptly making a more neutral expression, “blamed himself. He never got it out of his head that I was too  _ frail  _ for him, how the hell was I supposed to carry a Klingon child to term, when I was--  _ so unstable _ \--”

Part of her form lashed down at the shore, but then the affected arm regrew from the endless supply of glowing water in the pond, and her voice broke again, as she sobbed and choked out the words: 

“You and I had children, Julian. Where are they? I just wanted to see them, that’s all.”

Kira cleared her throat, and pulled her hand away from the pond’s surface. She had not yet submerged her palm, and she decided against it indefinitely, based on this new development. 

“Is it possible this is from another timeline?” Kira asked, leaning on her experience as a spiritual medium; when Sisko appeared to her, it was in many different forms and recollections. “In ours, you were… there’s no other word for it, you were  _ murdered  _ in the Bajoran temple. Your soul rested there, in a memorial lamp I picked out for you…”

“I can’t remember  _ that _ ,” Jadzia said. “I was Jadzia Idaris, I took almost a year to recuperate after Julian stabilized me… I  _ was  _ shot, but I… Dax and I survived it, the baby didn’t.”

“She doesn’t remember Dax,” Ezri summarized, turning to the side and then forward again. “I have those memories, Jadzia. Is there a way I can share them with you? We, um… we want you to find peace with what happened, in  _ this  _ timeline.”

“We can’t both have them,” Jadzia said, with a laugh that turned toward bitterness at its end. “Committing to a symbiont is a lifelong decision, we didn’t know any better… I can’t blame Julian for trying to save my life.”

In its tank, Dax began moving feverishly, imprinting the dye pad with dozens of words all at once, passionate and unfinished. Rali had remained silent and enraptured until this instant, when she suddenly cried out that she could  _ hear  _ again, using the term in her own peculiar way. 

“Dax says I can,” she translated, thrilled that this skill had returned to her repertoire. “It can, not  _ me _ ,  _ I _ . It can stay with her and tell her everything that really happened, all at once.”

“Rali,” Kira said kindly, “will you tell Dax, if it does that… I can’t promise it will get those memories back. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and I don’t want it to take a risk it doesn’t understand.”

“It understands,” Rali said, right away. 

“We want Jadzia to find peace, and to keep those memories for herself.”

“I can do it,” Ezri offered, chin trembling not only in reality, but more so in the rippling reflection from the pool. “I don’t…  _ need  _ them, so much, anymore… I know who I am. I’ve found my own peace, and I’d like to help her.”

Elim spoke up from the back of the group, while giving Julian’s hand a private, reassuring squeeze. 

“You could stand to forget your husband?” he asked, indicating Julian, “As well as all you have built together? Despite the time I spent resenting your earlier involvement, I would not wish that on anyone.”

“Ezri,” Julian said softly, trying to calm Elim at the same time, “it’s alright. Perhaps this is… where we’re supposed to part ways. We’ve been trying all these years, but our paths keep intersecting. If you wanted the chance to start over, to  _ truly  _ think for yourself again…”

“Oh, no, I’m sure I’d remember  _ you _ ,” Ezri insisted, not sounding convinced.

“I know thousands of versions of this moment,” Jadzia said, turning the tide inward to strengthen herself. She grew taller, but no more imposing. “And you will not. Don’t do that for me. I can stay here, stagnant. I’m alright, Kira. Don’t worry anymore.”

Kira allowed herself a single sob, then hid her face behind her sleeve as she used it to wipe her eyes. This form, this discussion—

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s just— it reminds me of Odo…”

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Jadzia went on. “I needed to return here. Benjamin and I trusted you with our lives a hundred times over. I knew you would figure it out in time.” 

“I don’t want you to continue hurting,” Kira said firmly. 

Ezri touched Kira’s shoulder, kneading deeply to make an impact between the thick jacket and embroidered robe beneath. 

“It hurt me, too,” Ezri whispered. “Whenever this happened, whenever Benjamin left you alone, Jadzia, I felt pain,  _ too _ . Maybe this is what’s supposed to happen. Like when I-- when I took Dax, without a second thought, because it was  _ hurting _ .”

Dax did all it could to show agreement, even though its words were illegible and its movements were restricted to the confines of its tank. It tipped the whole enclosure into the water, and Rali intervened to open it without a second thought. She twisted the cap off with her hands steady, and everyone watched as Dax swam enthusiastically forward to meet the symbolic body of its past host. 

When Jadzia moved her arms, now, they did not seem so heavy. She leaned down and embraced Dax, and set it into place over her chest. It remained visible through the glowing water, and even began to add flickering lights of its own, as its communication turned toward this new, eager vessel. 

“We care too much about you to let you do that,” Jadzia spoke directly to Ezri, but then tipped her head toward Julian, and everyone else on the perimeter. “You taught us… how to let go, and how to embrace. All at once. How to have a past and a future, as one. Isn’t that kind of the point?”

“Dax,” Julian began, his voice soft, “we can only speculate what effect this might have on you. This might impede your ability to Join, ever again, in the future.”

“I’m Joining now,” Jadzia said - Jadzia  _ Dax  _ said. “Oh, Julian. I was worried I might decay, I would have to imagine Ezri and Rali going on with their lives, without me being there to comfort them. This is a gift.  _ I wasn’t finished.” _

“You remember me,” Rali said, grinning. “I feel it again too, it’s good.”

Ezri looked at Julian, with undecided tears forming in the corners of her eyes. 

“Of course I remember you, sweetheart,” Jadzia said, the warmth of her smile making itself tangible, as she manipulated warm currents of the water. “That’s right, Benjamin wanted to show me your Joining procedure. This is the only timeline I see with  _ you  _ in it; I’m glad it’s the one I get to stay in. Sweet Rali, come here. I’m so proud of you.” 

Rali watched the waves, and turned to face her other family members, all clustered around her. Kira and Ezri knelt at her sides, with Ro and Julian behind them, Lenara, Kelas, and Elim even further back. She saw their eyes clearly in the darkness, catching the blue glow from Jadzia’s spirit. Cool and collected, hotheaded and passionate, imposing and friendly all at once. 

“C-Can I swim in this?” Rali asked. 

Jadzia offered her arms forward, inviting Rali to come and nestle between them. 

“I won’t let you go,” Jadzia promised.

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” Ezri said. 

“Go right ahead,” Julian said, at almost the same time.

“All of you are welcome,” Jadzia said, watching intently as Rali waded into the thick water, into her open arms. “Come. Remind me of who I was.” 


	2. 2440

2440

At the age of ninety-nine, during the festive season of Trill Midwinter, Julian returned to the Cave for the first time in many years. He had not been made to feel exclusively unwelcome, but crowds were not his specialty, nor were they Elim’s - and the two of them, along with Kelas, preferred to spend their golden years together in the warm, open plains of Cardassia. 

Jadzia’s presence brought a constant stream of hopeful visitors, from Bajoran monks seeking to study the phenomenon to former Nati Clutch members seeking forgiveness, and everyone in between. The pool she inhabitated was named a holy site, and her semi-solid form itself became known as an Orb - The Orb of Linear Time - to be used in communications with the Prophets. There were years Sisko disappeared again, flitting back and forth between Earth and the unknown depths of the wormhole, but Jadzia and Dax remained in the cave together. Kira took her patience and skills as a medium and turned them toward the Orb, establishing the great fascination the Prophets felt in preserving Jadzia’s soul and putting them in accessible terms for the crowds that came to see her. 

A vast volume of her memories was typed up and placed at the mouth of the pool, for visitors to scroll through before seeking a more intimate visitation session. With pride, Kira left a note to remind all who read it, that Jadzia was deemed innocent and worthy of Bajoran protection, when her body had been attacked by an evil spirit. Unlike other Prophetic voices, Jadzia’s was linear, and she carried the weight of lifetimes, all of which she could separate and then tangle together again at her own discretion. She could rely on experiences her mind remembered but her body did not, and the Prophets saw her as a unique opportunity to connect with their followers -  _ their children  _ \- in a way they could understand. The concept grew mutually between Bajoran and Trill populations, until Kira resided there almost full-time, training up orphans and lost Trill alike.

Julian, however, found other callings.

He retired from his service to the Militia and - with Kira’s blessing - went to teach and practice privately on Cardassia, his other home. He returned with less and less frequency to share in the milestones of Rali’s life, and then, finally, one of his own. 

He walked patiently with Elim’s arm looped through his, lending stability to the older Cardassian. It was much too cold for him on Trill, but with Kelas gone and himself at peace with the term of his life, he insisted on accompanying Julian for what he privately assumed would be the final time. Julian did not care to hear such pessimism aloud, and took it upon himself to care for Elim in whatever way was needed. This included more practical aspects, like leading him and carrying him when necessary, as well as a few  _ nesting  _ practices Elim enjoyed, like having Julian condition his hair and pat his eyes dry when the protective discharge made it difficult for him to see. It was worse in the cold, and after only a few days on Trill his eyes were clouded over almost completely with the greenish film; while the evolutionary intention was to protect glazy reptilian eyes from the sand and heat of his home-planet, the side-effects were miserable with age and the addition of snow and windchill. He huddled into Julian’s side, mumbling hollow threats while Julian tried, in earnest, to console him. 

“Only a few more steps, dear,” Julian said. “The water is much warmer, you’ll be fine there.”

“Assuming I don’t turn to ice the moment I step out of it, again. Or the moment you haul me out, with your unnatural strength.”

“Please,” Julian scoffed, teasingly, and gave Elim’s forearm a fraternal squeeze. “If you prefer it in the water, that’s where I intend to leave you.”

“Oh,  _ please _ ,” Elim returned, in an unclear tone.

The popularity of Jadzia’s site had only tapered slightly in the preceding years, and Julian had written ahead to both Kira and Ezri to ensure he had a bit of privacy with her, even requesting all of the symbionts and their caretakers to relocate temporarily. Well, all but one. 

Rali Miele was graceful and confident in her calling, and she stood at the opposite side of Jadzia’s pool with an ornately carved ladle in hand, which she used to provide ritual baptisms and blessings from the water below. She had trained as a caregiver, and now provided her services only to Dax - and to Jadzia - and to their memories. She curated a collection of artefacts, and all of Jadzia’s former treasures which were relocated from the shelves in Rali’s childhood bedroom to the rocky caverns all around Jadzia’s pond. She saw her fathers approaching, and carefully set the ladle aside; they could handle more than its limited scope would provide. 

“Dad, Elim,” she greeted them in a soft but firm voice, which Julian heard but Elim did not. 

“Hello again, sweetheart,” Julian said warmly. 

Julian slowed and then came to a stop, allowing Elim to catch his breath, while he took a studious visual inventory of the cave. The general size and shape were exactly the same as he remembered from his last visit - many years ago - but the museum collection had grown and the other communal ponds had to be dug deeper to accommodate this shift in the weight on the walls. The rest of these puddles were empty, for the time being, and while Jadzia was finally given a chance to rest, she did so by submerging her form fully in the water, letting a faint glow emanate to the surface. At that moment, he was grateful Elim’s vision was so poor - he might have been greatly unsettled by the corpse-like spectacle. Julian sighed at the familiarity of this particular sight, and once he was sure Elim could stand unassisted, he made an effort to kneel on the shore. His bones creaked but he felt no pain, and he began to stretch his hand out to the water--

“Hey, handsome,” Jadzia’s voice said. 

Slowly, more slowly than Julian lowered himself, Jadzia raised her body. Her chin emerged first, and her voice seemed to follow in its own physical rite, muffled by water and then booming, echoing from the cave walls. Her appearance was the same now as it was on the day she had died, decades ago. But Jadzia had always carried herself with a sense of grace and sage wisdom, so Julian did not feel any discomfort. The choice of greeting, though, made him laugh and scoff again, as he leaned into Elim’s side to share the joke. 

“Me?” Julian teased, touching his chest with one finger. “Even my  _ husband  _ has stopped complimenting my roguish good looks.”

“That’s because I cannot  _ see you _ ,” Elim immediately corrected him, eager to enjoy a playful debate with his partner. “Nor can I hear you very well. But I am confident your mind is as radiant as ever.”

“Well, I’m sorry we couldn’t spend any longer on Zcura.”

“Hmm,” Elim sighed fondly at the recollection, “the planet with physical sound. I found it so refreshing to be alone in a room with you, where I could close the door behind us and hear your words of endearment echo again and again. I have not felt so loved in years.”

“You might’ve been the only one on the planet who enjoyed it,” Julian said, in a good-natured tone. “We don’t travel as much these days, but obviously we’ve had to make a few exceptions.”

“I’m honored,” said Jadzia. “It’s good to see the two of you still together, arguing like Cardassian newlyweds.”

“Is that the result you were playing for?” Julian asked, gently touching Elim’s side again for her to see. 

“Maybe,” she said, with a mischievous smile. “Are you here to see me, or  _ yourself _ ?”

“That makes it sound so selfish,” Julian replied. “But, er, yes. The latter. I heard that a  _ certain _ friend of mine put my name up for consideration for a  _ certain  _ lifetime achievement award, and that’s something I  _ must  _ get to the bottom of, before the ceremony itself…”

“It wasn’t  _ just  _ me,” Jadzia said, always flawlessly integrating herself and Dax into a single personality; it was a skill Ezri had once envied but then came to admire. “I have a messenger now, you know. A medium, trained by the  _ finest  _ Bajoran and Trill representatives, and a dear young friend of mine.”

“Thank you, Rali,” Julian took the implication gladly. “I  _ am  _ excited about the nomination, this time around.”

“Then why are you here?” Jadzia raised one glowing blue brow, and Julian mirrored the gesture to better understand it. After all these years, Jadzia was still an enticing mystery to him, and still a firm friend. 

“You know how I feel about surprises,” he said slowly. 

“Well, I  _ guess  _ it won’t have any effect on the judges’ decisions… if I just  _ show you _ . But it might take the fun out of the ceremony.”

“Jadzia, I’m almost a hundred years old. Diplomatic banquets have  _ long  _ lost their intrigue, whether I’m the center of attention or not.”

“I quite enjoy them,” Elim interjected, to be rewarded by Julian playfully patting his arm. “I like hearing your merits listed, one by one. I could give the oration myself, if you were opposed to listening to Federation ambassadors…”

“You’ll have to listen to  _ me _ , first,” Jadzia insisted, in a friendly tone. 

She held her arms forward, inviting him to join her in the pool. Rali stepped around the perimeter, careful not to touch the water herself. Her standard uniform was a white robe - used by symbiotic caretakers for centuries - and she held even the longest draping ribbons out of the way. 

“You will need to see a Grounding Vision, first,” she explained the rules of the ritual to her father, who had significantly less information on the process than she did. “Mom put the restriction in place; it is important to understand your pain and acknowledge it before you can move forward.”

“And it stops people from becoming addicted to me,” Jadzia added, smirking, but then becoming solemn. “Imagine, if you could live only in pleasant hypotheticals, without facing the reality that brought you there…”

“I understand,” said Julian. Clearing his throat, he added, “you’re, er… going to show me a memory from my childhood, I imagine.”

Jadzia nodded. 

“But you won’t be alone,” she promised. 

He glanced past her shoulder - and somewhat  _ through  _ it, as the translucent blue cast a beautiful light - to see Rali. For years, he had tried to shield her from the reality of what his parents had done to him, even fighting to keep her - as a young girl - out of his father’s line of sight during an unexpected visit. Since she spent most of her life on Trill with Ezri and Lenara, the questions had faded out of relevance, but it worried him now, for her to potentially observe the scene as his spiritual guide. It was a strange twisting and reversing of roles, and - above all - he wanted her to know how much he loved her, how much his own upbringing had shaped his methods for raising her into stark contrast. 

“Rali, I never meant for you to--” he began an apology, but she gently shook her head. 

“I know some of it, from Dax,” she explained. “Thank you, for doing what you’ve done for me.”

“You’re welcome. Still, I--”

“We won’t be there  _ with  _ you,” Jadzia said kindly. 

Julian felt Elim leaning in close at his side, as he typically did to huddle for warmth or to share an observation unfit for mixed company. This time, it was a corruption of both, as he touched Julian’s chest, acknowledging the tender topic at hand. 

“ _ I _ will be there with you,” Elim said. “The whole way. Hold onto my arm, dear; let me steady you.”

Rali deemed this permissible, and knelt to oversee the ritual. With the hand Elim was not keeping a firm grip on, Julian reached out to touch Jadzia. They had no need for the ladle, or carefully controlled minor interactions with the water; they knew each other well. 

Once they were in contact, Julian felt his surroundings shifting and morphing into something new. He was grateful to have guessed the scenario in advance, so he could feel at least partially prepared for the experience. It was not unlike the few times he had Joined with Dax, he realized, as his physical setting blurred with each memory that came to mind. He felt himself as a participant and an observer, but the whole ordeal passed in an instant, leaving him no time to distinguish the identities. 

Then, he felt the same impressions again, at a slower speed, and he marveled to himself at how the Prophets carried out their illustrations without the hindrance of time. 

He observed himself as a child, with his hands clutching Kukulaka and his mother’s shirt sleeve, rather than Elim and Jadzia, respectively. They were facing a massive building, all sharp angles and sterile silver walls. He looked to his mother with some hesitation, and felt his eyes welling with tears.

His father stepped in to intervene, redirecting Julian’s hand from Amsha’s sleeve to his own, and walking forward with more determination. 

“I don’t want to,” Julian said. 

“Come on, Jules,” was Richard’s only reply, while Amsha leaned close and tried to nudge him forward gently. 

“What is it,” Julian asked, with fear the only inflection in his young voice. 

“A hospital,” Richard said, already low on patience. “Your bear is sick, isn’t it? I told you to leave that thing at home, Amsha.”

“It helps her feel comfortable,” Amsha said quietly. 

“He’s not sick,” Julian argued, although his voice was barely audible, as scared as he was. “I made him feel better.”

“What was that, Jules?” Richard asked, leaning over. 

“I fixed him,” Julian hoped to correct himself to his father’s standards. 

“Well, you can’t fix this,” Richard shrugged, and the whole family disappeared into the front of the main building, somehow beyond Julian’s ability to see…

He could feel Elim’s hand wrapped around his, cementing it down to his arm, and he could see Jadzia’s outline rippling above the water’s surface. It was far preferable to seeing the inside of the augmentation facility, he was certain of that. He could barely recall the ordeal in detail at all, without Jadzia’s help, and he reflected on this with gratitude. 

“Ready?” she asked him. 

Her grip was warm and loose, changing with the gradual movement of the tides. By contrast, Elim’s hand felt cold and strong over his. Then, across the way, Rali looked at him with a neutral expression, professional and calming. He could not think of a reason to decline. 

“Yes,” he said, “thank you.”

This time, his physical settings did not seem to change much at all. His attention was drawn to the rocky shelves, as some of the artefacts displayed on them were rearranged, and moved beneath lights for more thorough viewership. He heard champagne being opened and poured, then glasses being  _ clink _ ed together. There was a podium arranged between the sparsely inhabited symbiont pools, and he saw Ezri stepping away from it, as if she had just finished speaking. Her hair was short, white, and ruffled into cooperation between a decorative gold band, and she wore her ambassadorial admiral’s uniform with pride. 

She touched his arm in a polite, friendly way, and leaned in to whisper to him. 

“I told him to keep it brief, but who knows,” she said, laughing slightly. 

“Well,” Julian replied, in the vision, “at least you found a Vulcan to do the honors. I can’t imagine him going past schedule. Oh, and are we still on for dinner this evening? Since all of us are here, I would hate to miss a--”

“Yes,” Ezri said. “Absolutely.”

At the podium, the Vulcan dignitary cleared his throat, and began his portion of the speech. Julian found himself wishing he had heard exactly what Ezri said, in the opening ceremony, but then he realized Jadzia had probably omitted this from the vision on purpose; the event itself was only a few days away, and she worked to preserve at least part of the  _ surprise _ . 

But then, the Vulcan echoed some of her sentiments. 

“While I cannot claim to know Doctor Bashir as well as his longtime partner, Admiral Tigan, I can share many of her observations. It is true that it is rare for medical professionals with no Starfleet affiliation to be considered for this prestigious award, but it is also true that nominations are open to all Federation citizens, whether their work is documented publicly or privately. Starfleet physicians have catalogues of their research and deeds readily available for judges to study, while private citizens give us cause to rely on personal journals. Doctor Bashir’s name appears in numerous cultural studies, but also in notes of gratitude from hundreds of individuals he has impacted. And perhaps these - though they were written in privacy, in few words, and in confidence - serve to demonstrate Doctor Bashir’s value more than a published Starfleet report ever could.”

The Vulcan trailed off, letting the words resound from the cave walls, muffled by the gathered crowd. Such ceremonies were simulcast, allowing all the nominees to see each other without physically being together, as they were separated by parsecs of space. Still, Julian could not help but feel an impression from his young adulthood, of ‘homefield advantage’ - of feeling comfortable and familiar with his surroundings and his supporters, confident he would win. 

There were nods of acknowledgement, and Julian felt a teardrop welling up over his lashes, blurring the crowd into a single entity. And then, past them, he saw Ezri. She was nodding, too, and turning to smile at him. He was filled with the love and experience of lifetimes, and he realized he did not care if an award was put at the top of this shelf or not. The metaphorical shelf or the physical one, home to Jadzia’s hair pin as well as Kukulaka and Rali’s childhood plush toy, a tennis ball from his academy days, his Bajoran rank badge… 

“His work spans decades,” the Vulcan began again, “while he has facilitated first contact with dozens of races, I wish to expand upon several of his most notable achievements. Immediately after his graduation from medical school, he simplified biomolecular replication and used it to assuage a century of drought on Bajor, creating and purifying water in a single step. He went on to cure the Teplans of a fatal virus, which had a vast, detrimental impact on their ecosystem. He did the same for the Changelings during a time of hostility - an act which ended a war, and was not properly recognized at the time.”

By nature of the vision - and the timeless elements of Trill symbionts and Bajoran prophets - he felt himself almost transported back to the arrogant mindset of his youth. He wondered if he had done these things purely because he  _ could _ , or if some bigger part of him  _ wanted to _ . And what then, he wondered, shaking his head slightly. Did he want to be recognized, or did he want to make a difference? The admiral went on:

“His work continued afterward on Cardassia, a planet the Federation turned its back on, a  _ man  _ the Federation turned their back on. The Bajoran militia chose his support, alone, over our Federation’s, and I cannot say I fault them. He brought his expertise in pediatric medicine and genetic modification to the population crisis on Andoria, and contributed to their revival - one of our organization’s founding races, made strong again. When we cast out synthetic races, he helped illuminate our errors, including one lurking beneath the jurisdiction of the Federation.” 

Then, the feeling changed. He could reflect back on himself, and see he had acted not out of hubris, but out of genuine concern. He had crossed paths with too many people who had forgotten how to care. But there were more accomplishments still to be heard, and he felt himself bristling and almost blushing as the Vulcan continued to read from the list:

“He created safe, sustainable alternatives to the deafening devices in use on Zcura, a planet previously unvisited due to the uncomfortable physicality with which its atmosphere conducts sound. But, above all, we are here to recognize his lifesaving work with both species of Trill, who live under our protection. We are here to recognize the personal aspect so often overlooked by the Carrington Award Committee - and indeed by myself, in years past - as it has been outweighed by fascinating charts and research projects. We are here to recognize how Doctor Bashir chooses, time and time again, to  _ care _ . By whatever means necessary, and to the best of his ability, and for anyone in need.”

“This is it,” Ezri leaned in close. Or was it Jadzia’s voice? Julian could not tell; all of his attention was focused forward on the speaker. 

“In many ways, Doctor Bashir’s lifetime of achievements have challenged those beliefs traditionally held by Carrington Award recipients. And for giving us that gift of self-reflection, we felt it only appropriate--”

Ezri touched his hand, patting it to help remind him of his surroundings, and he almost forgot this was all an ethereal vision. Then her hand became Jadzia’s, cool and wet, but then it became Ezri’s again… 

“You haven’t shown me if I’ve won it or not,” he began protesting, as Jadzia shifted the time around him. 

It was Ezri’s hand again; it was one week later; it was reality in every sense. 

“--to create an entirely new award, named in honor of Doctor Bashir, for giving us cause to challenge our biases and expand to those who truly needed us,” the words echoed in Julian’s mind, long after the admiral finished the speech. 

Julian was seated at a dining table in one dim corner of the cave, past the museum collection and crowd of supporters. He was tending to Elim, asking if he could see better now that they had moved away from the glowing water, gently patting his face and helping him to eat from a spoon they were sharing. Ezri touched the back of his hand, as it was returning the spoon to the little pot of pudding, with a candle installed in the base of the glass to warm it to non-Trill preference. 

“Is this seat taken?” Ezri asked, nodding to a vacant chair over Julian’s shoulder. 

“Not at all,” he said. “Here, Elim, I’m going to scoot myself in just a bit closer to you... there…”

He carefully took hold of Elim’s armrest, and brought himself nearer, leaving more room for Ezri on his other side. 

“I wanted to offer my congratulations,” she said, “but I  _ knew  _ you’d finally get the credit you deserved. It was like a little voice inside kept telling me..”

Julian shrugged, and laughed quietly to himself. Elim was all too excited to mimic this, both teasing and admiring his love in his own way. 

“I’m glad all of us can be here, together,” Ezri added. 

Julian turned to inspect the rest of the table - he had been focused so intently on Elim’s comfort, and distracted by the gleam from his award plaque as it caught blue light from the symbiotic ponds. Rali was there, wearing her caretaker’s robes and ceremonial stoles and bracelets, eating small bites of the softest foods available from the buffet. There were cards sent from the O’Briens, from Kira and Ro, with love and blessings. Lenara was there with her apprentice standing at her shoulder, completing their training and preparing to take over the Kahn symbiont when Lenara’s time came. He felt Jadzia’s presence, too, in a not-quite-telepathic way, as she swirled in her own private pool with Dax. And Ezri and Elim were beside him, the most mutually supportive spouses he could have ever dreamed of. 

“So am I,” Julian agreed, nodding earnestly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for following this piece - we are almost at the end! (I do have an optional tie-in story planned, to elaborate on the Section 31 Drama, would anyone be interested in seeing that?)
> 
> This was written prior to the premiere of Star Trek Picard, but of course after watching that I needed to work in some of the new canon details established for the time period. And I think they integrated themselves fairly well :)
> 
> I share Kira's grief when she is reminded of Odo. Rest in Peace, Rene. This is a story about overcoming loss, and finding our loved ones all around us in times of trouble, even when they are no longer physically there. 
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
